Red ~ TWD (Daryl Dixon)

Bad Moon Rising

Thankfully Morgan kept the fortune cookie wisdom to a minimum. At least I think he did. When it became obvious he wasn't going to try and murder us I fell asleep in the backseat. Hopefully Aaron didn't tell Eric I'd left him unprotected. I could live with a lot of things, but no blueberry scones wasn't one of them.

It was the dead of night by the time we got back to Alexandria. The minute we rolled to a stop outside the gate I knew something was wrong. Not only was there no guard at the gate, but there wasn't a soul in sight. No one in the clock tower, no one on the guard tower, no one anywhere. I was forced to scale the fence, unlocking the gate from the inside to let us in. It was creepier once we were inside. Admittedly it was late, but there were always a few night owls roaming the streets or sitting on their porch. There was none of that tonight.

"Where is everyone?" I asked Aaron who looked surprised at the state of the community.

"I don't know..." He trailed off, turning in a slow circle, scratching his head. "Maybe they're having a meeting? We do that sometimes."

The way he said "sometimes" sounded more like never.

"Where?" Daryl questioned.

"Middle of town."

The mild alarm I experienced when we found the gate unguarded was multiplied exponentially as we made our way through town. I had no idea what was happening, but I knew one thing with absolute certainty, our group was at the center of it. Whatever "it" was. It wasn't difficult to imagine things unexpectedly turning sour. Since arriving we'd lied, stolen, and had plans to unleash a violent coupe if necessary. Any or all those things could have reared their ugly head, biting us in the ass.

Sometimes it sucked being right all the time.

I really wanted to be surprised by what we found at the meeting. I wasn't. We rounded the side of a small, brick wall to find Ariel pinning a man on the ground, his bear paw threatening to crush the man's tiny skull. I'd give the guy credit, even facing a crushed cranium he continued to thrash and struggle even though it accomplished absolutely nothing. That was the good news. Things went decidedly downhill after that.

Deanna's husband, Reg, was lying in her arms with his throat slit. There was blood covering the ground all around them. She was crying, begging for Reg to stay with her even though he was clearly already dead. She either didn't notice or didn't care, pressing her tiny hand against the ghastly, fatal wound on his neck.

Standing in the center of the mayhem was Rick. He was covered in blood, face cut like he'd high-fived a window. None of that made my skin prickle with unease. It was the crazed look in his eye, and the weapon in his hand that made me grind my teeth, readying myself for a fight.

"Rick, do it," Deanna ordered, eyes focused on her husband's body.

He didn't hesitate. Ariel released the man he was holding, Jesse's husband, just before Rick fired a single shot directly in his head. Everyone flinched at the sound, a few crying, or crying harder than they already were. The only people who looked unfazed by the morbid turn of events were our people.

"Rick?"

I forgot about Morgan until he spoke. He looked stunned, and more than a little horrified. Not that I blamed him. This wasn't exactly putting your best foot forward. I didn't know Rick Grimes in the beginning, but it was a safe bet whoever he was it was a far cry from the erratic, bloodied man who'd just executed someone.

"Morgan?" Rick sounded just as shocked though for an entirely different reason. "How?"

"Maybe we should talk about it later," Aaron suggested, eyes darting around warily.